Woof, did I ever have a fun time doin’ my innerview this week. I got to go to a BARN, which is only the second time I ever did that. Me an my assistant drove down this long dirt lane, through lotsa trees an liddle fenced PASS-churs, on our way to meet Sedona Greer, a bulldog mix.
We arrived first. Pretty soon another car pulls up and out jumps this pretty brindle pooch, very sturdy, big, square head, all bouncy an EEE-ger, and runs up for the Wag-an-Sniff.
“HI! YOU’RE MR. BONZO, RIGHT? I’M SEDONA GREER. THIS IS MY MOMMY, MAGGIE! IT’S SO-OO COOL KIBBLES THAT YOUR GONNA DO AN INNERVIEW! IT’S LIKE TALKIN’, RIGHT? AN YOU’RE GONNA TAKE MY PICK-SHUR, TOO, RIGHT? I GOT ALL BRUSHED AN SPIFFY, SEE?”
“A pleasure, Miss Sedona. You look extremely spiffy, for sure.”
She lowered her voice and continued to wiggle an wag. “I just LOVE this barn. Isn’t it So Great?”
Sedona’s Mom was holdin’ a long stick: a liddle basket on the end contained a well chewed-and-slobbered-on ball. “Watch THIS, Mr. Bonzo,” she said, starin’ at her Mom intently, ready to launch.
Her Mom flung that ball as hard as she could, sending it sailing across the field. Sedona shot off like a rocket, snatched that soggy orb right out of the air, an came flyin’ back. She plopped the ball at her Mom’s feet and waited for the next throw. After three or four more fetches she skidded to a stop.
“I do that every morning. Mommy says I have lotsa extra energy I hafta run off. So, whaddya wanna know?”
“First, how you got your Forever Famly.”
“OK. So, four years ago, my Mommy was on Vay-Cay in Sedona, Arizona, when a fren, Cara, sent her a PICK-shur of herself with this Totally Adorable Puppy.”
“I’m guessing that was you,” I ventured.
“It WAS! Cara said I was the only one of eight puppies that hadn’t got adopted. She asked Mom if she would take me. WELL, even though Mommy didn’t NEED another animal, she totally couldn’t resist me. So, soon as she returned home, she adopted me an named me Sedona. I’m glad she wasn’t in Katmandu when Miss Cara sent her my pick-shur.
“Word,” I agreed.
“Mommy taught me lotsa Important Dog Stuff. Still does. Since I have so much energy, we take many looong walks. But I have this liddle ISSUE: I’m scared of The Dark. So, when we walk at night, I stay right up against Mommy’s legs Just In Case.
“There were other animals already in the famly: Jazz, Skye an Levi were Schnauzers. Zola was a Blue Tick. They were really nice to me, but at first I wasn’t quite sure of My Place. I didn’t bark till I was 3. Now I only bark when I think there’s Stranger Danger, then I do this fuh-ROW-shus growl that Mommy says sounds like a 900-pound dog. But you know, Mr. Bonzo, I’m ackshully a FEMI-nun girrrl. I didn’t get to have my own babies, but I always felt like I was Rambo’s Mommy.”
“Who’s Rambo,” I asked.
“Oh, he’s a squirrel.”
“’Scuse me?”
“One day Mommy say me pokin’ around in the bushes. She came over to see what I was doin’ an there was this teeny baby squirrel. Its eyes weren’t even open yet. I thought maybe it was a puppy. I wanted to help, but didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Mommy did. Now we have four more: Robbie, Sausage, Squirrel No. 3 an Squirrel No. 4. I lick them gently, remind Mommy when it’s time to feed them, an make sure they’re all safely in at night. They’re sorta my babies. I also have some Barn Frens. Wanna meet them?”
“Um, sure,” I said, still trying to process the squirrel thing. Sedona led the way over to the fence, where a pretty dark horse with white snowflakes all over her stood next to a very short cream-an-tan horse with super long ears. It was as close as I’d ever been to horses an I was a liddle intimidated. But they seemed frenly. I tilted my head wa-ay back, and found myself looked up their noses, which were, ackshully, pretty cool – big an soft-looking.
“This is Tika. An this liddle goofball is Jake-from-State-Farm,” Sedona said. “This,” she turned to them, “Is Bonzo. He’s writing a story about me.”
The snowflake horse said, “Hello, young fellow. So, you’re a writer, are you. How very exciting. Welcome to our barn.” She nudged Jake-from-State-Farm. “Say hello to Mr. Bonzo.”
“HEEE-haaaaaw,” said Jake. “To be precise, Mr. B, I am a donkey. Sorta a horse cousin. Make yourself at home.”
“A pleasure, Miss Tika. Thank you, Jake. I admire your ears. You’ve got a great place here!” They wandered back into the pasture an began munching clumps of grass.
Sedona trotted into the barn. “Come’on!” It was cozy, with stalls on both sides an straw on the floor. She led us to a stall where a handsome little dark-chocolate horse was munching hay from a bag hanging on the wall.
“This is my step-brother, Cupid,” Sedona said. “He was born on Valentine’s Day. He’s a Rocky Mountain Horse. Hey, Cupid. Come meet Bonzo. He’s that writer I told you about.”
Cupid turned and came to the gate. “How’s it going, Bonz? I follow your work. I always wanted to write. But, well, hooves, you know. It’s Cool Clover you’re doin’ a story about Sedona.”
The time had totally zoomed by. Heading home, I was thinking about sweet Sedona tenderly caring for the liddle squirrels. I hope I can get back out to the barn again. Oh, and I got a Christmas Woof-Out from a lady fren, Lily Livingston, who was in my column years ago. When her Mom Pat went to Heaven and her Dad Brian couldn’t look after her anymore, she went to live with her human sister, Jean, in Ireland. She loves it there an sends Best Woofs to all us pooches.
Till next time,
The Bonz